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Oct 2018
Grievance --
a rotten way to be wounded.
all bandaged up, but still hurting.
cry.

To hell with people -- I say I'm a
Rotten Painter
all alone
no more whispered words to color the still-empty canvas


Don't be sentimental
You made me ill
I felt like hell

But Hell is warm and the
flames are comforting
This poem is about my struggle with accepting that my beloved voices are gone (due to medication)
Written by
Rebekah Guindi
  863
 
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